


The Sea is Just a Wetter Version of the Skies

by Altenprano



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 11:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1855669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altenprano/pseuds/Altenprano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That day at the beach wasn't the first time Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes found themselves together on the beach, and the first time was certainly more eventful than the second. Post-S4 Christmas Special. Fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sea is Just a Wetter Version of the Skies

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first attempt at something resembling Chelsie, all inspired by Regina Spektor's song, _Folding Chair._ I'm taking a break from long angst-things for a while (also because I'm rather busy), so I hope you enjoy this little bit of fluff that I have for you.   
>  Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey one bit (because if I did, I would make this a thing, for sure).

"Mrs. Patmore said you wanted to see me," Elsie said, appearing in the entryway to the butler's pantry. "Is everything alright?"

Mr. Carson looked up from the wine records-- Elsie marveled at its size, and sometimes she would wonder how many wines were recorded in its pages-- and, upon recognizing the housekeeper, he gave her a curt nod and closed the record book with his usual care. "Everything is fine, Mrs. Hughes," he assured her. "Would you care for some tea?"

The housekeeper sighed inwardly and stepped further into the room that had been the butler's kingdom for nearly twenty-five years (though Mr. Carson had most likely seen this as his kingdom since he set foot in the servants' hall, which had been thirty-some years ago). The keys at her hip moved against each other as she poured a cup of tea for each of them, making a sound not unlike the bells in the servants' hall, and she felt a little heat rise in her cheeks. 

_Oh stop that,_ she chided herself. _It's too silly to fret over. Those keys have been yours for nearly forty years-- you ought to be used to them by now._

"I found some of your things in my office, Mrs. Hughes, though how they got there, well that is a mystery," the butler told her, accepting the cup of tea with another nod. There was no humor in his voice-- Elsie didn't expect to hear any-- nor was there any hint of disapproval from her colleague.

"I can't say I've left anything of mine in here recently, I'm afraid," she said, taking a sip of tea and watching as Carson did the same. 

"Not recently, no." The butler ducked under his desk for a moment, and she could only imagine that he was rummaging around for something or other, suspicions that were confirmed when he emerged with a simple straw hat with a ribbon tied around it (the ribbon had been blue once, Elsie realized, noting the traces of color that remained). 

Her heart gave a little jolt of recognition-- that was her hat! Well, it _had_ been her hat, a long time ago, when she was younger. 

She remembered the day she'd last seen it with unusual clarity, despite it having been nearly forty-two years ago-- was she really _that_ old, that she had memories that went back into another century?

The staff of Downton then had been given a holiday, not unlike the one that everyone had recently enjoyed, and the housekeeper and butler then (whose names escaped Elsie's memory) had, oddly enough, decided the seaside would be the perfect destination.

She'd been the second housemaid then, and Carson-- just "Charles" then-- was a footman, most likely first. The two were good friends, Charles being the more strict of the two, of course, as well as the one with the better sense of humor, and Elsie couldn't help but fall in love with him.

Now she hadn't been the sort to get all wide-eyed and speak in that frantic, giddy whisper she heard other maids use when discussing whoever had caught their eyes. No. She was a practical woman, even in her younger days. She was a practical woman who put her work first and did only what was completely necessary, keeping to herself and staying out of others' business. 

She was content to keep Charles as a friend, seeing as that was all he seemed to want from her. He might not have admitted to it, but, especially now that he'd told her about Miss Alice Neal, she'd suspected that there was another woman he had his heart set on, and she wouldn't want to impose.

The holiday had been lovely-- the sun was out but it wasn't too hot, not with a constant breeze rolling off the waves, and everyone was in high spirits-- and she and Charles had spent it strolling up and down the sea strand. He'd been explaining to her about the different wines and spirits that Lord Grantham-- the Dowager's husband-- had in his cellar, explaining the intricate process of winemaking, as well as what was to be served with what. She recalled how fascinated she'd been, both by what he was saying (information she'd rarely have to use, but intriguing nonetheless), as well as the way his eyes lit up as he spoke. Few people got as excited as Charles Carson did when it came to the details of the wine cellar, she remembered concluding.

She'd been wearing that hat-- the one Carson now had on his desk-- and she recalled a wind having plucked it from her head and sweeping it into the surf. Oh, she'd been so attached to that hat (for whatever reason she'd had then) that she'd nearly made a scene, and she would have, had Charles not rolled up his trouser legs and gone to retrieve it for her. 

He'd looked rather ridiculous, with his trousers rolled all the way to his knees, and she guessed he'd felt properly scandalized too. Funny thing was, she couldn't recall if she'd reassumed possession of her beloved hat or not.

 _Apparently not,_ she thought, setting her teacup down and picking up the hat. Unsure about whether or not it would fit, she set it gently on her head, feeling perhaps as ridiculous as Carson had felt with his trousers all rolled up.

"Careful," the butler said, his lips spreading into an expression of pure amusement. "It might blow away like that."

With a grin of her own, Elsie took the hat from her head and held it at her side. "Well I'd like to hope not," she replied. "I'm already after a certain duo of hall boys, at Mrs. Patmore's request, and a hat would just be one more thing."

At her comment about the hall boys, Carson's lips settled into their usual stern line. "Let me see to them, Mrs. Hughes, or let Mrs. Patmore. She's just as fearsome, I'm certain."

An image of Mrs. Patmore _and_ Mr. Carson (most certainly the most feared members of staff who actually carried any authority) chasing the two hall boys in question crossed Elsie's mind, and she knew that was a task better suited to one other than her. 

"Thank you, Mr. Carson."

"Of course."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed what might be the first of many Chelsie fics (even though I have a different opinion than most on the topic), and feel free to comment, critique, ask questions, whatever.   
> Thank you!


End file.
